


Cakes

by baths



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Boys with Vulvas, Breathplay, Food Kink, M/M, Mild Stuffing, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baths/pseuds/baths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You’re a muscular kind of guy, and you like it that way, but watching Dirk’s soft curves and seeing his stomach squished against the side of the couch makes you hot in a kind of fantastic way.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cakes

**Author's Note:**

> For the extremely sweet and cool [prince-of-pastries](http://prince-of-pastries.tumblr.com)! (I don’t know whether anything in here is not your cup of tea, so if you’d prefer not to read it, I’d be happy to edit it or write something different. If that’s not the case, I’d write another one anyway, haha. Just let me know.) It was insanely fun to write.

You’re sitting on the edge of the couch, tinkering with some leftover robotics from your last project, when you hear Dirk open the front door. He’s been away at work a lot recently, and you haven’t had a lot of chances to hang out with him. You look up from your robotics but don’t put them down.

It’s a few minutes before Dirk comes into the living room. “Hey, Eq.”

You nod and raise a hand in greeting. “Welcome back.”

He looks tired, in that way where you know he’s had a long day, but he might still be up for some good-natured wrestling. You place your bot and screwdriver on the table. “How was your day?”

“Oh, fine.” He sits down on the bench near your couch and starts taking off his shoes. “No. It sucked. The worst day of my life.” He bends over to undo his laces, and you watch his rolls of stomach fat squeeze together. He lets out a breath as he straightens up, stands with socked feet on the carpeted floor. “I’m happy to see you, though.”

“As am I.” You lean back on the couch as he approaches you. “I was going to make spaghetti for dinner, if that is satisfactory to you.”

“Sure, but maybe we could cuddle a little first.” He grins, sliding onto the cushion next to you. He’s holding a smallish box. “I brought some treats home.”

He hands the box to you, and you gingerly place it on your lap. It’s weighty, like a big hardcover book.

“Now?” you ask.

“If you’re in the mood.”

You’re usually in the mood. You watch Dirk’s thighs rub up against each other, hands clutching his knees. He smiles at you.

“Let me see what you got.” You open the lid of the box and find three rows of delicate pastries. Tiny pink and blue rosettes decorate what look to be round sponge cakes. They smell sweet.

“Aren’t they cute?” Dirk laughs, his thick shoulder brushing against yours. “Jane and her dad were making them and they boxed up a few for me.”

You look over at him and nod. “Lie back.”

Dirk grins and follows your order, fitting his back against the arm of the couch. His legs are bent and his toes poke into your side. You watch him lying there, thick stomach moving with each breath. You take a pastry from the box, set the rest on the coffee table, and kneel on the floor next to Dirk’s head.

“Open up.” you say, and he does. You move your hand to his jaw, carefully taking his soft throat in your fingers, keeping his mouth open. You slide the pastry into his mouth, getting just a bit of hard frosting on his thick lips. You let his throat go and he chews, and you watch his neck bulge just a bit when he swallows. There’s frosting left smeared over his top lip.

“You’re getting messy,” you say, and he swipes a thumb against his lips and licks the frosting off.

“Maybe you need to be more careful,” he says. “Hand over another one.”

You grab another treat out of the box and return your hand to Dirk’s soft chin. He opens his mouth and you slip the pastry in. He chews, smiling at you, and you move your hand from his chin to his stomach, feeling him breathe. 

“Another.” you say.

“You’re getting impatient, Eq.”

You bristle, but don’t argue with him. It’s not really the time.

He laughs, and nudges you with a thick forearm. “Get on with it, then.”

You take another pastry and repeat the process, this time watching his face as he eats. You’re a muscular kind of guy, and you like it that way, but watching Dirk’s soft curves and seeing his stomach squished against the side of the couch makes you hot in a kind of fantastic way.

“Take it all in,” Dirk says, breaking you out of your reverie, “Before you take your place on the couch.”

There’s a gleam in Dirk’s eyes as he watches you sit down opposite him. He groans, stands up, wipes some crumbs from his chest. You lie down, stretch out with hands clasped together, a light sheen of sweat across your brow. You watch him as he stands above you.

“If you would move forward?” you say. “I can’t wait forever.”

“Settle.” He moves toward you, hands going to your wrists, maneuvering them above your shoulders as he straddles you, his soft thighs pushing your torso into the couch. Most of his weight is sitting on your crotch, and you breathe slowly in anticipation for his weight on your chest. 

He grins and lowers himself onto your chest, and you can feel every pound of his torso squishing yours into the couch. You can barely breathe under him. Dirk lets go of your wrists and starts playing with your hair, occasionally kissing the underside of your chin. You take a shuddering, shallow breath.

“You’re so hot, Eq.” He nibbles on the fleshy part of your throat. “God. I could just sit here forever.”

You wish he would. You can get just enough air to stay awake, to keep your stomach from getting too pained, but just barely. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded.

“Don’t slip away,” Dirk breathes, and you struggle to keep focus. You pay attention to every bit of his flesh, every time either of you take a breath and your stomachs press harder against each other. He smiles. “You want me to eat you out?”

You shake your head. If you tried to talk, it’d probably just come out as a weak rasp. Dirk pushes his hands into the couch and lifts his distended belly off your chiseled one. “No?”

Your breath comes back in a rush of sensation and relief. You shake your head again. “Just your hand today.” Not that you wouldn’t like his mouth, but his thick fingers just seem preferable. “I can accommodate you, though, if you like.”

He smiles, lowering himself down on you again. The breathlessness is familiar now-- like diving into water for the second or third time, you are expecting it and you remember everything that you love so much about having him on you. He chisels a hand between his fat tummy and yours and rubs unskillfully against your nook. You’re already wet, really wet, from watching him eat and from his weight on your stomach. Just that bit of extra pressure is so close to sending you over the edge.

You moan, just a little, but you can see Dirk react and push just a bit harder, let a little more of his weight crush you.

“Dirk--” He rubs up against you again, and you come, gasping for breath, writhing underneath him in a desperate attempt to get just a little more pressure against your clit. 

He slowly lifts himself off your chest and sits, straddling your thighs. You take a moment to catch your breath.

"Would you, um, like me to service you as well?"

"Nah, it's okay."

"I would be happy to return the favor--"

"It's not a favor. And I just don't want to.” He pauses. “It's an order."

You nod. You're not sure you understand, but it's not your place to question him. And he _did_ order you. 

Dirk smiles. "Now, I'm going to go clean up, and you can go change your pants and start that spaghetti, yeah?"

"Of course." You acknowledge his smile with a nod. Righting yourself, you stand up and glance back down at him. He watches you with soft eyes. You lean down and place a hand on his shoulder, quietly control your strength, and squeeze. Dirk places his hand on top of yours and returns the favor. It’s as close as you get to embracing.

The spaghetti is pretty tasty, and you remember Dirk never had much in the way of home-cooked meals in his wigglerhood. He always seems grateful when you set dinner up for him. You try not to watch him eat, but it’s really difficult, sometimes.

...Maybe you can make him dessert tonight too.


End file.
